


I fought the war (but the war won)

by ephemera (incognitajones)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Medical, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, MSF in space, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-10-22
Packaged: 2018-10-12 22:56:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 16,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10501170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/incognitajones/pseuds/ephemera
Summary: They meet on a battleground, of course.





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five times Cassian Andor, intergalactic medical aid worker, crossed paths with Jyn Erso, freelance war reporter.

They meet on a battleground, of course. It’s his fifth civil war, her second (though he doesn’t know that at the time). 

He spies her lurking as he’s triaging casualties in a bombed-out marketplace and pegs her right away: another freelancer hunting for footage that will get her noticed, get her something better than work for minor holonets in the Outer Rim. She sends her camera hovering closer to capture him in action, but he swats at the drone with a bloody forearm and almost knocks it out of the air. “Get that thing away from me. I’m working.”

“I’m working too, asshole,” she shouts back. “Don’t you want the galaxy to know the truth about what’s happening here?”

“Like what you broadcast has any relation to the truth.” He turns back to his patient and forgets about her instantly.

He wouldn’t have said that he had any idea of what she looked like, other than short. But that night when he sees her in the cantina (there’s always a cantina) where the offworlders gather—the mercenaries, aid workers, fixers, and other hangers-on who trail after carnage—he recognizes her before she finishes crossing the room. 

She leans on the bar next to him and raises her glass in a scornful salute. “Just what this planet needs, another Core World do-gooder who thinks volunteering in a warzone makes him a saint.” 

He doesn’t bother correcting her assumptions. Why should he tell her that Fest isn't a Core planet, that he's worked for Medics in Sentient Fellowship for a decade and seen more combat zones than she’s made hyperspace jumps? Instead he calls her a bloodthirsty disaster tourist; her eyes catch fire as she calls him an adrenaline junkie with a saviour complex. The verbal brawl sparked by that is an instant legend, retold across the galaxy by everyone who was there to witness it and plenty who weren’t. 

It ends with her in his bed, his hands fisting in her hair as he desperately tries not to explode like a teenager at the first touch of her mouth. She mocks him for being a medical professional without any contraception on hand and he fires back that he doesn’t make a habit of picking up groupies in the field. For that, she bites his thigh hard enough to leave a crescent impression of her teeth. When he pulls her hips down to bracket his head, her flailing hands catch at the insect netting hung around his bed and drag it down where it tangles between them later, sticking to their sweaty skin as they lie wound around each other and come back to their senses.

(Cassian blames that for the fact he contracts Knytix pox and runs a low grade fever for the next two months.)

 

The next time, they meet in the chaos of a camp of Berchestians displaced by seismic activity as their planet shakes itself apart. An epidemic of wirt-cough is burning through the camp; most of the refugees and all of the medics look like walking corpses, hollow-eyed and shaky. In the third unending week of it Cassian thinks he sees Jyn with her drone camera trailing behind her in the field hospital, but when he blinks she’s gone. He’s so tired he must have imagined it.

She barges into his tent late that night without warning and Kay-too nearly kills her before Cassian wakes up enough to call the droid off. 

“Why do you have a murderbot? What the kriff is this thing?” Jyn demands, cradling a wrist bruised by his pincers.

“This is Kay-too. He used to be a security droid. Now he’s a sort of conscientious objector, I suppose.” Cassian shrugs.

“What does he do, exactly?” Jyn eyes the droid suspiciously. K2-SO has that effect on a lot of people. The flaking Red Sigil painted on him isn't always convincing, as the blaster scars, dents and scratches on his dull chassis show.

“He carries stretchers, clears rubble when we’re searching for survivors. He can actually be very helpful.”

“It is inefficient for me to be employed in that manner,” Kay intones. Jyn startles at the sound of his voice and bristles up at him in a way that suggests she finds the droid intimidating, even if she’d never admit it. “I am much better suited to securing medical supplies and personnel from outside threats.”

“Then make yourself useful and secure the outside.” Jyn points to the door. 

Kay swings his oblong head toward Cassian, who nods. 

Jyn saunters over to his cot, swings her leg over his hips and straddles his lap, pulling his head back. He smiles at the well-practiced maneuver of a short person who likes to have the advantage of the high ground. “You look like you could use some stress relief. And this time, one of us is prepared.” She pulls a condom out of her pocket and holds it up with a triumphant grin.

Cassian hasn’t slept properly in at least twenty-nine standard hours, but this is not an opportunity to pass up. He tries very hard to stay conscious long enough to fuck Jyn, and by a miracle he succeeds. He falls asleep afterward in the middle of a kiss, and wakes to find she stole his gloves.

 

(“Borrowed,” she corrects him four months later when she drops them on his sleeping bag, damp from the Malastore floods.) 

 

Keeping up with news on the holonet used to be something Cassian did with half an ear while he was cooking or doing laundry, a way to track where he might be headed in the near future if tensions or trends built up the way reports suggested.

Now he pays more attention, listening for the names of the reporters on the ground, looking for Jyn’s face on the edge of other shots. She shows up in the background of the footage of a riot from the Peragus miners’ strike—it looks like she’s hurt. 

He freezes the projection, magnifies the image, and studies it, but diagnosis from a pixelated split-second of 3-D holo is impossible. From the way she’s favouring her right arm, it could be anything from a laceration to a fracture. There’s blood on her face, but he can’t tell whose. 

He doesn’t see her for eight months.

 

During the blockade of Chandrila, Jyn tells him her shoulder was separated by a militia officer’s truncheon strike. She was on the political beat for three months while it healed. 

“Most boring assignment of my life,” she complains as he unfastens her shirt and pushes the collar aside with his mouth. “Nothing to film but ribbon cuttings and stump speeches.” He kisses the scar where her skin split when the blow landed.

The next night she evades K2 and finds Cassian hiding in his dormitory room with a bottle of rotgut. They’re running low on drugs of all kinds, thanks to the blockade, and everything must be rationed. This afternoon Cassian had to turn away a woman he could have cured so that the limited supply of medication can go to those who are even sicker. 

She pulls the bottle out of his hand and lifts it to her mouth. She coughs at the harsh burn and corks the bottle before shoving him over and wedging herself onto the narrow cot. He curls around her body to rest his head on her thigh, sighing as she strokes his hair. “You can’t save everyone, Cassian.”

He laughs: short, sharp, and bitter. “I don’t save anyone, Jyn. All I do is choose whose death gets postponed.”

He’s never seen her look so earnest, unguarded. He wouldn’t have believed she had a vein of faith unmined by her cynicism, but it seems she does. “The people you save—yes, they might die the next year, or the next day. But even so, you give them time. Time to hope, to love someone, to fight for their cause again.”

He pushes his face into Jyn’s shirt, surreptitiously blotting his eyes, and presses her back down onto the cot to devour her. He needs to wipe his memory and nothing he’s found—no drug, no alcohol—blanks his brain out the way the taste of her skin does.

 

Two hours after Jyn arrives on Akiva, her camera drone is smashed and she’s thrown into a cell. The military junta running the planet doesn’t intend to let images of how they're crushing the rebels get out to the wider galaxy; MSF itself is here on the thinnest razor edge of sufferance. For Jyn, Cassian puts that to the test. He’s able to talk her out of the crowded, lethal jail only because he treated the local commander’s shellmate, and only on the condition that she's on the next transport off planet.

Jyn is furious but despairing. He sees in her eyes a reflection of the uselessness he feels whenever he stops to think too long about whether what he does actually makes an atom of difference in the vaster scale of things. She helped drag him out of this pit last time; now he has to try to find words that will help her carry on.

“All you can do is make one person see the truth.” He sweeps her matted hair out of her eyes, his hand lingering on her bruised cheek. “And hope that they pass it on.”

“Bloody idealists,” she mutters. “All the same.” But her smile flickers and she presses a brief, hard kiss to his mouth before tugging her pack onto her shoulders. “Until next time, Cassian.”

“Next time,” he echoes, and watches her leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original concept came from a discussion about plausible modern AUs for this pairing other than the classic spies or cop/criminal varieties. But in the end, I transposed it back into SW canon since I'm not a big fan of the genre of romance in front of a backdrop of real-world atrocities.
> 
> Some writers are very good at these brief sketch/headcanon type of pieces; I’m not, but I needed to get (at least some of) this out on the page and I don’t have time right now to write the 10,000 words it would take to do it justice--so here’s a tenth of that.
> 
> *
> 
> I occasionally post bits from this AU on my Tumblr; you can read [Jyn's POV of their meeting](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/post/165197666088/pov-for-the-doctorjournalist-au) and a [ficlet that takes place between this chapter and the next](https://incognitajones.tumblr.com/post/167037703953/trick-or-treat-ohhh-msf-au-pleaseeeeee) there.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jyn’s had liaisons like this before, with other perpetual wanderers. The whole point of these arrangements is that they have no staying power; they work precisely because they’re temporary and ephemeral. Why is she starting to think about a future with Cassian?

It’s been four months since the last time Jyn saw Cassian, and somehow, in that brief span of time, she’d forgotten how strong a gravitational pull he exerts on her.

At the moment she’s straddling his thighs and ought to have the upper hand. But she’s distracted by the perfect composition he makes: the lean lines of his hips echoed in the narrow but strong muscle of his shoulders; his aquiline nose balanced by the sharp angles of his jaw, which his scruffy beard can only blur so much. He’d be a gorgeous nude portrait subject, if Jyn still had time to create images of lovely things as well as ugly, terrible ones.

“You really should let me film you in action sometime,” she coaxes him, sliding her fingers up along the contours of his ribs. “You’d be famous. Think of all the publicity for MSF… you could do speaking engagements, bring in donations.”

Humanoid, handsome, and heroic is the winning trifecta for viral footage, after all. It’s why Cassian caught her eye the first time she ever saw him, in the rubble of a marketplace that had been packed with people doing their evening shopping ten minutes earlier.

“Stars, Jyn, are you _trying_ to piss me off?” But the corners of his mouth tip up, imperfectly concealing a smile.

She grins at him in return. She knows he’ll never agree, but it’s entertaining to pester him. 

It’s even more entertaining to let her hands roam the terrain of his body. She sketches lines on the sensitive skin above his navel, circles the hard points of his hipbones, follows the creases that lead from them toward his groin. His eyes fall shut and his muscles tremble under her fingers. 

Cassian is never outspoken when they’re together, but his whole body gives him away. Jyn has learned to decipher his signals like a spy reading coded documents. When she touches him in just the right way, his thighs tense and his fists curl, or his head snaps back to expose his throat to her seeking mouth. She loses herself in the process of mapping out each sensitive point on his skin until he finally breaks. He surges up beneath her and drags her against him for a messy, biting kiss that makes her whine into his mouth. While she’s distracted, he twists them both over until he has her pinned to the creaking bed. Jyn laughs and twines her legs around his to pull him closer still. The sharp edges of the crystal hanging around her neck bite into their skin where their bodies are pressed together.

 

One thing Jyn’s learned from working in most of the major disaster zones in the galaxy is that life continues—no, more than that: it asserts itself. Tragedy is never unrelenting. No matter how grim the surroundings, people laugh, cry, drink, dance, get up the next morning with a hangover and go to work. They have children (or eggs or clones or whatever their biology demands). Her mother would have called it the Force working through all living things; her father would have called it survival instinct. Jyn isn't sure which she believes.

For now, Tirahnn is in the precarious calm of a ceasefire while peace talks between the factions of its three-cornered civil war continue. Jyn is here to film a puff piece for a charity that wants to show off the smiling faces of grateful recipients of their aid. Instead of emergency amputations, Cassian is providing vaccinations, preventive care, and other “real medicine” as he calls it. He told her that he helped deliver a baby the other day, for the first time in years, and was so delighted she had to kiss the grin off his face.

It’s been a week of more relaxation than Jyn can recall in decades. She and Cassian have had time not just for sex, but to share meals, fall asleep and wake up together. It’s nauseatingly domestic and far too appealing.

Jyn knows better than to let herself get used to it. She’s had liaisons like this before, with other perpetual wanderers. The whole point of these arrangements is that they have no staying power; they work precisely because they’re temporary and ephemeral. If she and Cassian ever met somewhere outside their assigned roles, they’d have no connection at all. But this peaceful interlude is making her forget that, and dream of impossibilities.

Today they even hiked up into the mountains together—because Jyn was looking for a good vantage point from which to shoot a panoramic view of the city, but still. It was like a bloody landscape painting. The mountains made a perfect frame for the valley below, cupping the shining white buildings of the city in gentle slopes, and bright wildflowers starred the fields of lavender grass all around them. 

Cassian’s profile beside her was just as perfect. As they looked out over the view, he put his arm around her and she let him; in fact, she leaned into him and rested her head against his chest. Their fingers slid together and interlocked, unnervingly intimate. As they walked back down the steep path, he didn’t let go, and Jyn tried to remember the last person she held hands with. She thinks it was her mother.

She’s beginning to wonder what it might be like to live like this. Of course she couldn’t stand it over the long term—she’d chew a leg off out of sheer boredom—but maybe she could find a quiet planet like this to live on between assignments, somewhere nicer than the short-term rental pods on Coruscant where she usually ends up staying whenever she has a few weeks off. A home, for lack of a better word: something she hasn’t had since she was eight years old.

And so what if she pictures Cassian visiting that home? No-one else has to know about her embarrassing fantasies.

 

Later, she’s sprawled across Cassian’s chest as he rubs her back in slow tranquilizing circles; he does that when he wants her to stay the night, because he knows she won’t move from his bed while he does it. Jyn ought to be more concerned that he’s discovered exactly how to turn her into a boneless, compliant mess, but with his fingers smoothing the tension out of her muscles she can’t bring herself to care. 

She is curious about one thing, though. “Were you ever going to tell me that Draven demoted you after Akiva?”

Cassian’s hand pauses, and then presses in between her shoulderblades and sweeps down her back again. “Where did you hear that?’

“Bodhi told me.” Jyn feels no compunction about throwing her source under the AT-AT. Bodhi Rook’s a freelance pilot who flies cargo shipments and picks up the occasional logistics contract for MSF, and who knows Jyn well enough to pass on gossip she might find of interest—such as Cassian being disciplined for getting her out of jail.

“MSF has to be relentlessly neutral, Jyn.” He sighs. “If we aren’t, we can’t do anyone any good. And I put the mission at risk by calling in a personal favour for you. Draven was right.”

Jyn can’t believe he has the nerve to defend the mission co-ordinator to her. She sits up and yanks her fingers through her hair, bundling it back into its usual untidy knot. “Forgive me if I disagree,” she says waspishly. “Considering I’d still be rotting in that cell if you hadn’t.”

Cassian’s eyes soften and he looks up at her as though she ought to understand his bloody moral scruples. “I didn’t say I regretted it. Just that I deserved the consequences.” He sits up and links his arms loosely around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder. “I would never have done it before I met you,” he mutters. “Ask Kay.”

“Are you saying I’m a bad influence, Doctor Andor?” she teases.

He turns his head into the curve of her neck, brushing his nose against the ticklish spot behind her ear, and she squirms and almost misses his next words. “I’m saying you make me reckless.”

“You make me sentimental,” she confesses into the dark strands of his hair. “So we’re even.”

He kisses her, smiling, and she feels the smile cross from his lips to hers.

 

The next morning Cassian heads off to the hospital and Jyn hikes back up the mountainside alone to get some more footage from the meadow lookout. 

She gets two decent passes, but her next shot is ruined when the camera jitters, bouncing on the air currents in a way Jyn recognizes as a sign of incoming atmospheric flight. She looks up and scans the western horizon. Fast-moving dots streak in over the mountains, resolving into large aircraft: definitely an attack of some kind. 

Looks like the ceasefire’s broken.

She’s exposed on this hillside, but there’s no strategic target anywhere nearby so she doesn’t need to run for shelter. She looks around in confusion, wondering what the bombers’ target could be since there’s nothing in range. Maybe they’re just flying through the valley—

Plumes of vaporized dust rise from petals of flame. They’re bombing the hospital. 

“They’re bombing the fucking hospital.” Jyn’s voice sounds flat and disbelieving in her own ears. 

She grabs her datapad, sends an emergency override signal to the network, and flips her drone settings from record to live broadcast. This has to be seen—now.

 

Six hours later Jyn’s voice is raw, her head is pounding, and the data storage on her drone is almost full. No-one’s claimed responsibility for the bombing strike, and likely no-one will, but everyone knows it was the Empire. The Rebellion is trying to win these people over, they wouldn’t bomb a hospital; the Partisans might, but they don’t have the air power. 

The toll stands at forty-two wounded, twenty-six dead. Cassian isn’t one of them—probably. A few hours ago MSF put out a statement condemning the attack with a list of confirmed casualties attached, which his name wasn’t on. But errors are made compiling lists, bodies are discovered in rubble hours later, and wounded people die. Jyn won’t believe it until she sees him alive.

She allows herself to hope when she sees Cassian’s murderbot on guard outside the small hostel where MSF personnel are billeted. But when K2-SO observes her, he moves to stand directly in front of the entrance and block her way.

“Jyn Erso, I do not think you should visit Cassian at this time.”

“Why not?” she demands, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin. 

“He is asleep.”

“I won’t wake him.”

The vertical lines running through Kay-too’s optical sensors click and flicker. “There is a sixty-seven point six probability that you are lying—”

“Force sake, Kay-too, shut up. I just need to see him, okay?”

Kay-too lowers his head and directs his opaque white gaze at her. Jyn stands her ground, folding her arms across her chest and glaring back. “Very well, you may enter.” Jyn pushes past before he can change his mind, but he's still not finished with his sulky-sounding monologue. “Only because Cassian said that you had standing permission to enter his quarters.”

She stops short. “He did? When?”

“Seventeen standard months and eight days ago.” Kay straightens up with a faint squeak in his joints. “He did not specify that I could not interrogate you first.”

 

Cassian’s lying on his back, one arm flung across his bare chest. Even in exhausted sleep his face is drawn tight, lines pinched between his eyes as though he’s holding in pain.

She kicks off her boots and eases on to the squeaking cot by millimetres, trying not to wake him if only to prove Kay-too’s calculations wrong. But he stirs and turns his head toward her and she can’t help reaching out. She holds her hand just above his chest where she can feel each rising inhale brush against her palm, and touches her lips to the bare skin of his shoulder. A soft, hoarse noise escapes him, and when his eyes open they’re slow to focus on her.

“Are you hurt?” she whispers. 

“No.” His voice is so rough and raspy it sounds like his vocal cords have been sandpapered. He must have breathed in a lot of dust. “A few cracked ribs is all. Operating table landed on me.”

Jyn sucks in a breath and curses comprehensively. She wishes she had the power to press a button and launch something to flatten the kriffing bastards who ordered this attack, wherever, whoever they are, right this instant. She’d do it and sleep better for it.

His hair’s fallen in his face. She pushes it back and brushes her lips over his forehead, his closed eyes, his nose, his cheekbones. She wants to cover his whole body with her kisses, as if they could offer him protection. But there’s nothing she can do. Cassian is going to keep throwing himself headlong into the most dangerous places in the galaxy for the sake of saving other people, and one day she’ll probably watch him die through her lens. He said she made him reckless, but that’s a lie: he was born reckless.

Jyn loves her job, but not more than anything and everything else—not more than her own life. Cassian does. The difference between them is that stark, that simple. The vague, silly dreams that Jyn has been indulging quietly fade away.

She needs to think about something else.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?” she asks. “Did little Cassian dream of being a superhero?”

“No.” He laughs with a near-silent puff of air, and then winces as the movement hurts his ribs. “I did want to be a doctor, though. When my parents died…” The words trail off and Jyn holds her breath in case it distracts him. Cassian’s never talked about his family; she knows nothing about his history before ten years ago. “It was in the Fest campaign. I was six. They bombed my school, too,” he adds conversationally. “That’s why I survived, because I was evacuated offworld with the first wave of casualties.”

Jyn doesn’t know what to say, so she says nothing. How strange, but strangely fitting, that Cassian lost his family too. She can’t believe she didn't recognize the kinship of a fellow lone survivor. Some of the reasons they were drawn to each other are much clearer to her now.

“A fund for Festian orphans gave me a scholarship to medical school. One of the requirements was a year of public service after graduation. And once I started working for MSF, that was it—I didn’t want to do anything else.”

“What kind of medicine were you thinking of, at first?”

His brow creases and he takes a moment to answer, as though that time is so remote it’s hard to call to mind. “Pediatrics, I think.”

“I can see that.” Jyn traces his eyebrow with a fingertip and tries to picture a gentler world in which Cassian was free to choose that life. “You’d be the best pediatrician in a teaching hospital on Coruscant. Awful bedside manner, but all your students would have crushes on you.”

“What would you be doing? Would we know each other?” He sounds wistful.

“Yes,” Jyn decides. “I’d be… a photographer. We’d meet at some gallery opening with cheap Naboo wine and bad hors d'oeuvres. And we’d make fun of the terrible post-Veselian sculpture together.”

“Sounds like a nice life,” he murmurs, already half asleep again.

“It does.” Her voice is thick with tears she refuses to release. She curls her body tighter around Cassian, like a human shield. She thinks of that imaginary Jyn and Cassian, and she hopes that they're happy, in their perfect nonexistent world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jyn had a lot to say, it turns out, so I couldn't resist adding a second chapter to this story. Plus, it even fits with today's Rebel Captain Week prompt (AU of your choice + "nerve", which I managed to work in twice).


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short vignette based on **ohbeeone** prompting “don’t touch me” or “is that- blood?” - both of which made so much sense for this AU that I couldn’t resist fitting them in here.
> 
> Not super gory, but there's some bleeding.

Jyn slams into Cassian’s room in her usual whirlwind fashion and drops her drone case on the floor with a bang. “I’m starving,” she announces. “Please tell me you have some food stashed in here.”

Cassian doesn’t look up from his datapad. It’s been a long day, and he’s got to submit these records soon or tomorrow will be even longer. He can’t allow Jyn to distract him now. “Let me finish dictating these notes, then I’ll see if Melshi left anything in the kitchen.”

He can hear Jyn throw herself on his bed with a groan. The bedding rustles as she stretches her arms over her head and burrows into his lumpy pillow. He resists the temptation to look and keeps murmuring into the pad, straining to recall the details of a particular patient file.

“Where’s the murderbot?” Her voice is indistinct, muffled by fabric, but Cassian can just make out the words.

“I loaned Kay to the search and rescue crews. They could use the droid power.”

Jyn doesn’t respond. Cassian wonders if she’s alright; she was filming the digging, and it must have been brutal. The aftermath of these mudslides is one of the worst things he’s seen in a long time—and MSF is only dealing with the survivors who are pulled out in a condition to be treated. He glances over, but her face is buried in the pillow and all he can see is the back of her head. There’s a dark smear running down her neck.

“Is that blood?” His voice is louder and sharper than he intended.

He chucks his pad on the desk and gets up for a closer look. Jyn groans again as the weight of his knee on the bed makes the mattress dip and her body tilt toward the edge. “Don’t touch me.” She flicks one hand feebly at him.

“You’re hurt, I need to see.” He cups a hand around the back of her head to hold it steady and pushes the hair off her neck with the other. Even through the dust sticking to her skin it’s obvious that the dark streak is dried blood. What’s harder to see is where it came from, but there’s a heavier blot just behind her right ear that seems to be the source.

“It’s nothing,” she mumbles, trying to turn her head away.

“It’s not nothing. Hold still.” He presses his thumb into her hairline. Bright red blood wells up around a sparkling fragment embedded in her skin and a soft, pained noise scrapes out of her throat. “You’ve got a sliver of glass here. How the kriffing hell… you were too close to the hazard zone, weren’t you.” A piece of the heavy machinery they’re using to demolish unstable structures must have sent debris flying.

Jyn stays silent, admitting to nothing.

Cassian stands, the bed rebounding as his weight is lifted, and drags his personal medkit out from under the desk. “Force sake, Jyn! That’s why you have a drone, so you don’t have to get up close and personal.”

She calls _him_ reckless—but she’s the one who acts as though she’s indestructible, barreling into dangerous situations with absolutely nothing to protect her. A few centimetres to the right and that splinter of glass might have nicked her carotid artery. She could have bled out and died on a muddy pile of rubble before anyone realized what was happening.

“How could you not even notice…” he mutters to himself, snapping on a pair of gloves. He’s angry, but he takes a breath and forces himself to keep his touch gentle and professional as he cleans the area with an antiseptic wipe.

“I was busy,” Jyn protests into the pillow. “It didn’t feel like anything big.”

He pulls her skin taut with one gloved hand and picks the glass out with tweezers. More fresh blood seeps from the wound and she hisses in pain as he swabs it away with another wipe. The shard was larger and driven in deeper than he first thought. “This is going to need a stitch. Don’t move.”

By the time Cassian’s numbed her skin and collagen-stapled the cut, Jyn seems to be asleep, her cheek mashed against his thigh. But when he tugs the gloves off and rests his hand on her cheek, she opens one eye to peer up at him. “You’re still mad,” she mumbles, breath hot and damp through the fabric of his pants.

“Kriffing right. That was a stupid thing to do.”

She curves her hand around his knee. “I don’t want to fight.”

Cassian sighs. He doesn’t want to fight either; he just wishes Jyn had some sense of self-preservation. He smooths his palm over the round of her skull and down her spine, lingering in the hollow at the small of her back. She hums into his leg and loops her arm around his thigh, nestling closer.

He bends down to kiss the small protrusion of her vertebra, just beside the nick in her skin that could have been so much worse. Closing his eyes, he presses his nose into the crook of her neck, breathing in the smell of her dusty hair and the bitter note of antiseptic. No, he can’t keep her safe, but at least this small hurt was in his power to mend.

“I’m still hungry,” she says with a yawn, her muscles shifting under his cheek.

“Of course you are.” Cassian smiles, his lips moving against the soft skin of her shoulder. “Stay here and I’ll see what I can find.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two short Tumblr prompt fills.

**youareiron-andyouarestrong** requested #11 (post-coital) from the [cuddling prompt list](http://tiptoe39.tumblr.com/post/130339708446/cuddling-prompts).

 

His room is small, close and stifling. The window is shut to keep out the throat-searing smog that hangs low over the city. The wheezy, lethargic fan on the ceiling barely stirs the thick air as it clicks in slow circles, creating more noise than draft.

It’s too hot to be this close to another human being, but Cassian doesn’t want to let Jyn go. When she rolls off him with a satiated sigh, he follows, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her back to his chest. Her body seals tight against his, radiating heat like a fever. He slides the pad of his thumb under her breasts, down her belly and between her thighs, feeling it slip through the slick sweat gathering there.

She groans and turns onto her stomach. One arm dangles off the side of the bed, making a half-hearted search for her discarded clothes and breathing mask. “I need to get back to my hotel before curfew.”

Cassian glances up at the window; the hovering streetlights are just flickering on, blurry and barely visible through the smog. “Stay.” He presses his mouth to the small of her back, flicking his tongue out to taste the faint edge of salt on her hot skin. He dots kisses up the line of her spine, one on each vertebra, and pulls the hair off her damp neck to lick the hollow behind her ear. “It won’t be any cooler there.”

Jyn snorts. “It will be without you plastered all over me.” But she wriggles on to her back underneath him and lifts one arm to curl around his neck, pulling him down into a sticky, humid kiss.

 

* * *

**anonymous prompt** : "he's your droid, can't you get him to stop barging into our quarters?"

 

“Cassian, are you aware there is an intruder—” Kay stops, standing in the doorway. “Oh. I see that you are.”

“Kay! Privacy, remember?” Cassian snaps. He lunges for the sheet crumpled uselessly at the foot of the bed, trying to pull it up over Jyn’s naked body. “Close the door.”

“Kriffing hell! He’s your murderbot, can’t you get him to stop barging into your quarters?” Jyn sits bolt upright, not bothering to cover herself, and glares at Kay. Her hands are curling into fists.

Cassian sighs. He should have known the over-protective streak in Kay’s circuits would cause trouble sooner or later. “It’s his security protocols. He scans for intruders, and technically only MSF personnel are authorized to be in the building…”

Jyn scrambles out of bed and snatches up her clothes. “Guess I’d better leave, then, since I’m not welcome here.”

Cassian bites a curse off his tongue that won’t improve the situation. Jyn is clearly not in the mood to be coaxed to stay any longer. Still, after she yanks her shirt over her head he reaches for her hand and dares a swift kiss to her knuckles. “See you tomorrow night?”

“Maybe.” She pulls her hand away, but stoops to sweep her lips across his before she strides out, still glaring at Kay.

Kay remains in the doorway, gears whirring as he turns his head to follow Jyn’s progress down the hall. “Should I escort her from the premises?” he asks.

“ _Kay_.” Cassian puts his head in his hands. He takes a deep breath and reminds himself to lower his voice. Shouting at the droid won’t do any good. “Close the door,” he repeats.

Once the door is shut, Cassian throws the sheet aside and starts picking up his own wrinkled clothes. He might as well head to the freshers now that his plans for the evening are shot. “We’ve had this discussion before, Kay. Jyn isn’t an intruder. She’s my guest.”

“You’re too trusting, Cassian. I realize that sexual attraction impairs mental acuity in humans, so let me remind you that the total cumulative time you have spent with Jyn Erso is still less than forty-nine standard hours—”

“Kay!” This time, he does shout. “Let me be clear. I want Jyn to have access to my quarters any time she happens to visit, wherever I happen to be stationed.”

“That directive is unnecessarily broad and could well lead to a serious security breach.”

Cassian forces his jaw to unclench. “I didn’t say you should give her access to our entire facility,” he points out, although he’s sure Kay is fully aware of all the implied parameters of his statement. “But she has my express permission to be in my quarters, do you understand?”

“Even if you are not present?”

Cassian pauses while he’s fastening the clasps of his shirt, momentarily flustered by the mental image of Jyn waiting for him in his bed. He doubts she’d ever do such a thing, but if he were to be so lucky… “Yes, even if I’m not here.”

Kay’s joints click as he straightens to his fullest height, a characteristic reaction when he thinks that his analysis is being ignored. “Jyn Erso’s behaviour is unreliable and erratic. The odds of her creating an problem for an MSF mission at some point are high, Cassian. Very high.”

“Please, Kay. Just finish your patrol.” _Or whatever you were up to when you ruined my night_ , Cassian thinks. “I appreciate your input, but let me worry about Jyn.”

“You are less stressed in her presence,” Kay says unexpectedly. “Which is the sole reason I haven’t advocated barring her from mission facilities altogether.”

Cassian stops with his hand on the door, his towel over his shoulder, and looks up at Kay. “Really?”

“All biometric measures indicate it.”

“Huh.” He sucks in the muscles of his cheek, trying to quell a smile that would only give Kay more reason to question his judgment.

“I still think I’m right about her,” the droid adds. But his sub-vocalized tone is quiet enough that Cassian can pretend not to hear.

*

1) This is backstory for the conversation in Chapter 2 of this story, when K-2 tells Jyn that Cassian ordered him to let her into his quarters.   
2) Jyn’s “murderbot” nickname for Kay is borrowed from the wonderful writer Martha Wells, who created it for [her novellas](http://www.marthawells.com/murderbot.htm) about a very different kind of droid.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Jyn was at the spaceport waiting for passage to Coruscant when her datapad pinged. She flicked it open absently and saw a looping moment of bubbling surf withdrawing from a flat stretch of sand, someone’s bare toes in the water. She frowned at the image._ What the—? 
> 
> [Please note the change in rating: this chapter is most definitely Explicit.]

Jyn was at the spaceport waiting for passage to Coruscant when her datapad pinged. She flicked it open absently and saw a looping moment of bubbling surf withdrawing from a flat stretch of sand, someone’s bare toes in the water. She frowned at the image. _What the_ —? 

She checked the sender ID; it was from Cassian. The short note attached read _Peace and quiet for a change. Wish you could be here_. 

Bastard. Jyn looked around at sterile transparisteel and duracrete from the hard bench she’d staked out as her territory for the next two hours, and sighed. She’d love to be on a beach instead of waiting for a third-class berth on her way to a cheap, short-term rental pod.

Well, why not? There was no reason she couldn’t. She’d just wrapped up a job and didn’t have anything else lined up right away. She’d actually been paid on time for once, so she could afford the fee to change her booking. And Cassian had even sort of invited her—if you disregarded the fact people said that to anyone, whether they meant it or not. 

But they’d never made a deliberate effort to meet before; they’d always simply waited for the moments when their irregular orbits eventually crossed and brought them within reach again. How would Cassian react if she just showed up wherever he was? Would he be pleased to see her, or annoyed? 

Jyn chewed her lip and watched the loop of the waves rolling over Cassian’s feet again. She wondered if he had a sunburn on the back of his neck. She calculated how long it had been since the last time they were in the same gravity well for more than a few hours, and how long it might be before she saw him again. 

She found the nearest ticket kiosk, changed her fare, and pressed her thumb down to confirm the purchase before she could think about it too much.

 

The in-atmosphere shuttle to the fishing village where MSF had their mission headquarters landed late in the evening. From the viewport, Jyn watched Giju’s bright white sun setting rapidly, retreating around the curve of the planet faster than the craft could fly. 

She hadn’t received a response to the brief note she’d sent stating her arrival time. She didn’t know what Cassian thought of the news she was coming, or whether he’d even be able to spend time with her. In theory, MSF wasn’t here for disaster relief, but as part of a long-term project to treat a parasitic disease common on the planet. Still, anything could have changed in the few days since she got his message. 

The shuttle’s thrusters whined and the whole ship bounced twice before it settled onto the gritty landing pad. Instead of shouldering her way through the slow shuffle of people disembarking as she normally would, Jyn hung back. She didn’t think Cassian would be here to meet her; after all, he was working. She could hitch a ride to the clinic and find him.

But he was there, standing at the edge of the landing pad. A bright, disbelieving smile spread over his face when he saw her. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to actually show up. Jyn’s heart squeezed with a hard thump and her steps picked up speed, even though she didn’t know what she was going to do when she reached him. 

Cassian didn’t hesitate; he leaned down and wrapped his arms around her just below her heavy backpack. He kissed her once, quick and firm, as though it were their everyday greeting. And then he kissed her again, and the quiet hunger in it startled Jyn, as did her own eager response: shrugging her pack off and sliding her arms around his neck to bring him closer. Once again she was taken off guard by how much she wanted Cassian. She didn’t even remember they were in public until someone passing by whistled.

She drew back and smiled at him a little sheepishly. “Hi.”

Cassian didn’t move away. He slid his hands down her arms and circled her wrists like bracelets, as though he couldn’t stop touching her. He studied her carefully, his intent gaze sweeping over her from head to feet. “How was the trip? Are you tired? Hungry?”

Jyn rolled her eyes. Always the doctor. She wasn’t hungry, but she was jittery and off balance, unprepared for the feelings that Cassian had stirred up. And she was sticky with sweat; the transport had been packed full of people and supplies headed for the MSF clinic, and not climate-controlled.

“Actually, right now I’d love a swim.” She looked past him to what she could see of the ocean from here, turquoise deepening to sapphire in the distance as the light faded from the sky. “Is the water safe here?” 

 

Giju wasn’t Lahmu—the sand was a soft pink rather than black, and the climate was more tropical, at least at these latitudes. But the sound of the surf crashing on the shore was achingly familiar, like the smell of salt in the air. The sea breeze dragged her hair out of its knot and pulled strands across her face. Jyn breathed in deeply and a haze of weariness lifted from her.

There was no bathing suit in her backpack, of course. She just shucked off her t-shirt and the loose skirt she’d worn for comfort on this sweltering world. Night was falling quickly—the rapid sunset of equatorial latitudes already dimming—and no-one else was in sight on the deserted beach, so she shed her underwear and breastband too, dropping them to the pier beside her pack and sandals. Cassian stripped off beside her, grinning as he raced to catch up. She balanced at the edge of the pier, gripping the rough wood with her toes, and arrowed into a shallow dive.

The water swallowed her up, cool and blissful over her body. Bubbles churned around her as she kicked her way back to the surface. She slicked her hair out of her eyes, treading water and looking for Cassian. The sunset had already diminished to a narrow orange band on the horizon and it was hard to see anything against the moving darkness of the waves. 

His arms snaked around her from behind and she gasped. His laugh at her surprise was a warm gust on her ear. Jyn elbowed him in retaliation, only to gasp again as he dragged his palms slowly up her belly, over her breasts, grazing his fingertips over her nipples. She shivered, her skin drawn tight by his touch and the contrasting temperatures of air and water flowing over her.

She twisted around in his arms, water eddying between them, and pushed his wet hair out of his face. The sky, the waves, his eyes: everything reflected the same beautiful shining darkness. She drew his head down to kiss him, tasting salt on his lips. 

He lifted her, effortlessly buoyant in the water, and she twined her legs around his hips, her arms around his neck. The muscles of his shoulders were slippery under her fingers. She opened his mouth with hers and kissed him again, sweet and slow and melting until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began. She wondered if she’d ever kiss him often enough to get used to the way he sighed into her mouth when she slid her hand up the back of his neck and into his hair. 

Like silk on her skin, the water swirled around and between them as she rocked against him. Cassian’s grip on her thighs tightened and his mouth grew hungrier, with an edge of desperation that she echoed, biting at his lips. He walked backward, towing her with him into the shallower water. 

Jyn licked at a droplet of salt water clinging to the shell of his ear. She rested her forehead against his and sighed. “Can we just stay in here forever?” 

Cassian’s lips and teeth roamed along the angle of her jaw, not quite kissing, not quite biting. “I can’t get my mouth on you underwater.”

Suddenly dry land seemed much more appealing. Jyn let go of him and launched herself back to the pier with quick, choppy strokes, Cassian right beside her. She slithered up over the edge with a heave of her arms while he hauled himself up the short ladder. Before she could reach for her clothes he’d tossed her skirt onto the wood and pushed her down to sit on it. 

Water streamed off Jyn’s body and goosebumps rippled over her. She didn’t know if she was shivering from the sea breeze or from the need to be touched. The only places she felt warm were wherever Cassian’s mouth and hands settled on her. She let her knees fall open at the press of his hands, her breath quick and ragged with anticipation. 

He bent and placed his mouth on her, wide and full, its heat a shocking contrast against her flesh still cool from the sea. Her body jolted like an electric current had run through it and her hands clenched on his shoulders. 

Giju had no moon but the stars were thick as snowflakes in a blizzard, so bright Jyn swore she could feel their light tingling on her skin. Cassian’s head was a dark shadow between her shaking thighs. Her heels thumped on the pier as she tried to brace herself, and he gripped her harder to hold her still. 

When he opened her with one long stroke of his tongue, her spine softened and she collapsed back onto the hard planks. She pressed a fist to her mouth, not wanting the strangled noises escaping her to be carried over the water. Her eyes lost focus and the stars blurred into a shining smear. She let out a long, wavering sigh that broke into a sudden cry as a sharp, intense orgasm crackled through her like a lightning strike. 

Jyn’s breath shuddered and caught. She pushed herself up on unsteady elbows, strands of her hair snagging on the rough wood, and dragged Cassian’s head up to kiss him. There was grit on his tongue, tiny grains of sand licked from her skin. Chasing her mouth, he leaned a shade too far forward and they nearly toppled onto the pier. “Ow,” she said. “We’re going to end up with splinters.”

“I have a bed. Maybe we should use it.” Cassian was grinning against her lips. So was she, giddy for no reason. Smothering laughter, they shuffled partway into clothes that stuck to skin still damp and tacky with drying salt. Jyn scooped up her sandals and pack with one hand. Cassian grabbed the other and tugged her off the sandy pier, down the beach to a small boxy shed raised above the tide line on stilts.

She slowed for a moment, pulling him back. “You’re not sharing?”

“I bribed Melshi to find somewhere else to stay tonight. And Kay’s not here—too much salt and sand for his circuits.”

Jyn went up the steep stairs with Cassian crowding into her from behind and wrapping his arms around her waist. He boosted her through the doorway, lifting her off her feet, and suddenly she was flat on her back on a thin mattress on the floor. His hair was still wet, dripping saltwater on her thighs as he dragged her skirt off and placed a kiss on the inside of her knee.

“What has gotten _into_ you?” Jyn said, half-laughing and half-groaning at the intoxicating feeling of his lips moving up her thigh, his beard rasping lightly. 

“I’ve been thinking about going down on you since I got your message,” he muttered into her skin. “For the last two days.” 

Cassian’s tongue brushed her again, soft and delicate now, and she trembled, her hips rocking up mindlessly. He hooked his arms around her thighs to hold her steady and his mouth stroked her in a slow, patient rhythm. Jyn melted into the bed, every muscle dissolving, gasping out incoherent noises of want. Her whole body pulsed and throbbed in time with the blood rushing through her and the movement of his lips. 

When he used his tongue flat and broad on her, she ground back against him with a moan and felt his answering noise of satisfaction vibrate through her. He slid his hands underneath her hips and lifted her up to his insistent mouth, pressing deeper, devouring her. Jyn’s back arched and pleasure rolled over her in a crashing wave, dragging her down below the surface. 

By the time she could breathe again Cassian was leaning over her, his tongue tracing aimless lines up her body and across each breast, one hand drifting in light, barely perceptible patterns over her slick thighs. Jyn cried out again as his fingers grazed somewhere unbearably sensitive. 

She wanted the blunt pressure of his cock, not the teasing circles of his fingertips. But her dazed mind couldn’t find the right words. Bitten-off syllables of his name and sobbing breaths were all that came out of her mouth. She grabbed at Cassian’s hand, canting her hips against his. 

“I’m making up for lost time,” he whispered into the curve of her neck, nosing her hair out of the way and kissing the ticklish spot under her ear. “Be greedy. One more first.”

His low voice in her ear made her shudder. And stars, he was touching her just the way she needed. When had he learned her so well? As soon as he pressed deep inside her it was inevitable. Jyn shuddered again, trembling and clenching around his fingers, biting at his lower lip in a raw, messy kiss. 

Now. _Right_ now. Before the tremors working out from her core had stopped, she pulled his hand away, brought her knees up, and twisted, using the leverage to land on top. Cassian blinked up at her, a little startled, and she gave him a sly smile. 

She scraped her blunt nails down his ribs to make him shiver and he slid his hands up her sides, resting his thumbs beneath her breasts. When she started rocking on him in smooth, shallow strokes, his breath hissed out through clenched teeth, but he moved under her slowly, deliberately, far too self-controlled. 

Jyn wasn’t having that. After what Cassian had done to her, she was in no mood to go easy on him. She leaned backward, bracing her hands on his thighs and rolling her hips harder. He made a strangled, desperate noise and his hands fell to her hips as she drove against him deeper. She watched his eyes widen and then squeeze shut. He dug his fingers in tighter and tighter and came with a gasping, sobbing shout that might have been her name.

Jyn collapsed onto Cassian’s chest, as exhausted and euphoric as if she’d just run a marathon. She kissed him breathlessly, laughing at the aftershocks still running through their trembling muscles. 

He pushed her straying hair back behind one ear. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that, but I’m glad you changed your ticket.” He smiled, and the crooked line of his mouth bloomed into something so sweet it made Jyn’s throat ache. His eyes were tender, unguarded. She could see his next words forming in them before he opened his mouth. 

Jyn put her fingers against his lips and shook her head minutely, a tiny sideways movement. “Don’t,” she whispered. 

It was silly and superstitious of her, but she didn’t want to hear Cassian say it. She knew, he knew, what good would it do to use those words? It wouldn’t change anything about their lives.

He frowned, his eyebrows folding together as a moment of unhappiness flickered over his face. But he kissed her fingertips and cupped the back of her head, threading his fingers through her hair and guiding her down to rest in the hollow of his shoulder. 

All at once, the weight of the day landed heavily on her. They still needed to get up and rinse the salt water from their skin, shake the sand out of the bedding, but she didn’t want to move. For now, all she wanted was to lay here, warm and sated, curled into Cassian’s side listening to the wind and the waves.

“When do you have to go?” he murmured into her hair.

“I have to be on the noon shuttle tomorrow.” Jyn did the math in her head; she’d come all this way to spend eighteen standard hours with Cassian. She didn’t regret it. Even if this was all she could have, it was worth it.

“I haven’t been on Coruscant in years. Maybe I could stop over the next time we’re both in the system.” His voice was light and casual, but his arms were still tight around her. 

Jyn considered it, and didn’t feel the instant repulsion she was used to at the idea of anyone else intruding into her tiny rented space. “That would be—nice,” she said at last. “Yeah.” 

He kissed her temple. “Then I will.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I just wanted these two to have a good time for a change, dammit. Inspirations included **brynnmclean** 's fabulous tag "Cassian Andor: Cunnilingus Addict" and all those photos of Diego Luna by the ocean.
> 
>  **firefeufuego** and **rain_sleet_snow** gave helpful commentary and talked me down off the ledge when I thought this wasn't salvageable.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to repost this short Tumblr fill from a while back...  
>  **too-wise-to-woo-peaceably** asked for the cuddle prompt #7, "for comfort".

The waiting room set aside for witnesses is a small windowless square, bare of furniture except for a few spindly chairs lined up against the wall. Cassian isn’t sitting in one of them. He’s standing in the centre of the empty space, back stiff and arms crossed, staring at the dingy floor. When Jyn closes the door with a quiet click, he lifts his head and his shuttered expression opens up with surprised relief.

“Jyn! What are you doing here?”

“Working.” She lifts the press credential datachip dangling around her neck.

“I didn’t think this was your kind of story.” He looks mildly suspicious, which is better than the blank despair on his face a moment ago.

“I cover all sorts of things,” she says, shrugging.

Cassian doesn’t need to know about the favours she had to call in to get assigned to this story—they’re not important. What is important is that Jyn really shouldn’t be here; if someone from the court or another reporter sees her, there will be consequences for the ethical lapse of speaking to a witness in private. But she doesn’t care about those, or more truthfully, she’s willing to face them.

She’s never seen Cassian in a formal suit before. The clean lines and sober dark colour flatter him, but they also make him look much older. So does the tension she can see in his jaw and the stiff set of his shoulders. She tugs the lapels even and flicks a non-existent speck of dust off his sleeve for an excuse to touch him. Her hand lingers on the smooth weave of the jacket, resting over his heart.

“Are you okay?” she asks, quiet and matter-of-fact. She doesn’t want to heighten his anxiety by sounding like she’s worried about him (although she is).

“Yeah.” His head moves in a jerky nod, more like one of Kay’s robotic mannerisms than a human gesture. “Mostly.”

Kohl Seerdon, the Butcher of Fest, has finally been brought to trial, and of course the war crimes tribunal called on Cassian to testify. He’s the perfect witness: not just photogenic and sympathetic, but noble. The kind of person who, after their childhood was smashed to pieces, constructed a heroic life out of the rubble.

“It’s just… hard.” He swallows, his throat sliding up and down, and his fingers twitch as though he’s resisting the urge to clench them. “Remembering it all. Talking about it over and over. In front of people.”

She smooths her hand in small circles over Cassian’s heart. His whole body is thrumming with some intense feeling—grief, pain, rage—but lashed down and contained so closely she can’t tell what it is.

Words are not Jyn’s strength; she’s always been better with images or actions. Even when she knows what to say (which is almost never) she can’t manage to make it sound right. So she curves her hand to the angle of his jaw and strokes his cheek with her thumb. She looks up into his shadowed eyes, trying desperately to show her sincerity.

“Tell me what to do, Cassian. If there’s any way I can help, please tell me.”

“You already have.” He links his arms around her waist and bows his head to rest on her shoulder. “You’re here. That’s all I need.” His eyelashes brush her skin as he turns into the shelter of her neck.

Jyn wraps her arms tight around him, cradling his head in one hand and pressing the other flat between his shoulderblades to rise and fall with his breath. She doesn’t say anything more. What would be the point? She can’t tell him _I will always come for you, if you need me_ ; that’s only wishful thinking, not a promise she can keep. So she just holds Cassian close, breathing in time with him, hoping that’s enough.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is for **Yavemiel** , fic enabler, generous commenter extraordinaire, and a darn good writer too. There definitely wouldn’t be as much of this AU in existence if not for their continuing encouragement - thank you very much.

Coruscant was as vast and impersonal as ever. The anonymous stream of commuters, students, tourists, pickpockets, shoppers flowed through the hovertrain station without end and with barely any gaps. It took Cassian almost a minute to work his way through the platform across the current of traffic, shoving past a tight packed group of Bothans at the last second to reach Jyn. 

She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed in a swift, fierce hug. The sudden tangible reality of her—the strong muscles of her back under his hands, the crown of her head the perfect height to fit under his chin—was overwhelming. He couldn't respond for a second, startled even though he'd been thinking about this for days, and by the time he’d gathered himself together enough to think about kissing her she was already pulling away.

She took his hand to lead him through the crowd to the right exit; he held tight, not wanting to lose her in the mass. Once they were out of the station, the swarm of bodies thinned just enough for them to walk shoulder to shoulder along the moving pedestrian path and he let her hand slip free, reluctantly.

The dim, eternal twilight overhead was familiar, too; the sky was never either completely dark or bright on Coruscant. Cassian grimaced. He’d take natural planetary light any day over reflected sourceless glow from orbital mirrors. 

“I’m renting a pod by the week in one of those short-term blocks by the university. It’s not far,” Jyn said. “How long are you on planet for? Some kind of training, you said?”

“Yeah, a two week clinic on reconstructive surgery at the medical school.” Should he tell her now that she didn’t have to put him up for the whole time? He could find another place to stay within a couple of days.

“Are you hungry?” She took the lead to dodge around a slow moving gaggle of gawking tourists, looking back at him over her shoulder. He nodded. “I thought we could pick up some takeout on the way. There’s a decent Mon Cal place a few blocks over.” She pointed to the next exit ramp off the moving sidewalk, and he followed in her wake.

On the way through the university square, they passed the same kind of fly-by-night stalls Cassian remembered from his time in med school, still selling second-hand textbooks for students who couldn’t afford unlimited holonet access, cheap jewellery, knockoff “designer” clothes, and codes for the latest pirated music or vids. Jyn wove through them to a small takeout counter beside a sonic laundromat full of kids studying, drinking, or flirting as they did their laundry. Cassian watched them out of the corner of his eye while she ordered and wondered if he’d ever been that young. His student days seemed like a lifetime ago.

Cassian had slept with people in university, of course, but he barely remembered any of their names now. Just fellow students, seeking an outlet for hormones and stress while they were cooped up together in accidental proximity. Of course, that was exactly how he and Jyn had started out before they became... whatever they were now. 

He looked at her profile, outlined by the ambient neon glow of the surrounding megablocks, and wondered how she thought of him, how she described him to her friends. (Assuming that she ever mentioned him at all.) She had to know that he loved her, though she wouldn't let him say it. And she must care for him in some way too; she’d come to see him on Fest when it wasn’t a small thing to do. Jyn would never go to that much trouble for someone who wasn’t important to her.

But Cassian was still uneasy. As good as things always were when they were with each other—even when they argued, even when she drove him into orbit, it was better than getting along with anyone else—he couldn’t shake the sensation that Jyn might change her mind at any second. 

He needed to relax, try to stop worrying that this was all going to vanish. She’d wanted to see him enough to tell him to stay with her, after all—even if he was still pretty sure she’d kick him out before the two weeks were up. 

He took a deep breath, reached for her hand again and gave it one quick squeeze. Jyn looked up at him curiously. She didn’t let go, but tangled their fingers together in an unexpected burst of affection as warm as the scented steam from the kitchen. Cassian felt a soft, idiotic smile spread across his face.

 

Her rectangular pod was one of hundreds in a mile-high stack: standard layout for one medium-mass humanoid. Cassian dropped his bag in the corner and looked around while Jyn pulled a couple of Corellian ales out of the small chiller.

It was all completely anonymous. The furniture was durasteel or molded plastoid, sized for one and bolted to the floor, and the upholstery and bedding were bland variegated greys. There were no personal touches, no holos, art, or trinkets lying around. Jyn hadn’t even really unpacked. Her clothes were either piled neatly on a chair by the bed or leaking out of the overstuffed duffel on the floor beside the fresher. The bulky case of her drone camera sat by the door as though she had to be prepared to leave in thirty seconds. 

In the whole room, the only touch that spoke of Jyn was the wall projection, which had been changed to an image she must have taken: a slightly abstract, slowly spinning galaxy instead of the usual bland landscape scene of Naboo’s lake country or a Sicemon sunset.

They ate their fish curry sitting cross-legged on the floor while he tried to relax, figuring out how to act around Jyn in this new space. When he asked what she was working on at the moment, she shrugged. “Between contracts right now, so I’ve been freelancing at the smashball matches. It's a couple hundred credits for three hours of work. But it means I have to watch the game.” She made a face, obviously not a fan. “Still, it’s good money while I keep looking for the next thing.” She picked through a container of fried shrimp and didn’t meet his eyes.

His stomach knotted. Was that a hint? “Hey, if you find a job offplanet and need me to clear out, just let me know.”

“It’s fine, Cassian,” she said firmly. “If I didn’t want you to stay, I wouldn’t have suggested it.” She popped a shrimp into her mouth. “So what’s the murderbot up to while you’re here?”

Cassian chuckled. “On the MSF freighter that dropped me off. They’re on their way to set up a field hospital on Agamar. Kay's good at construction, even if he hates it.” 

“Is that where you’re off to, after this workshop?”

He watched Jyn’s tongue flick up to erase a drop of sauce from her lip. “Probably, unless something else happens in the meantime.”

Jyn caught him staring at her mouth and smiled, slow and teasing. She leaned forward over the clutter of takeout containers on the floor and kissed him. Her lips and her tongue burned against his, hot with spices. 

Cassian curled one hand behind her neck to hold her there and shoved the containers of food aside blindly with the other. “Come here.”

“Careful,” Jyn protested, laughing into his mouth. “If the carpet gets stained, my damage deposit—”

“Fuck the carpet.” He wrapped his free arm around her hips and dragged her closer. “I’ll pay.”

Jyn crawled into his lap and kissed him again, her lips grazing a fiery trail down Cassian’s jaw. He fell backward and pulled her down to straddle him, one hand slipping up under her shirt, drawn to her bare skin. He’d waited as long as he could stand. And however she felt about him, at least he knew she wanted this.

 

After two days of the seminar, Cassian could tell it would be useful, especially once they started on practical techniques. The specialist leading it was a good teacher, but xe was a terrible writer. Trying to read xir most recent publication was giving him a headache; it was too much work to extract the meaning of each sentence from its cloud of subordinate clauses and caveats. 

Especially when he was trying to read while stretched out on the floor, and Jyn was perched on the bench seat above him tinkering with her drone. Next to his ribs, her bare feet curled and tensed as she held the camera in place between her knees.

He groaned and let the datapad fall out of his hands, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to drive away his oncoming headache. “Stars, this is like the worst part of med school all over again.”

“How many secondary degrees do you have, anyway?” Jyn asked, the words garbled by the tiny screwdriver held between her teeth.

Cassian shrugged and twisted his mouth into a grimace, slightly embarrassed. “Depends how you count.”

“Come on.” She sounded a little testy. “Don’t be shy.”

“Three.” 

“Overachiever. I don’t even have a basic ed certificate.”

Cassian dropped his hand and craned his head back to look up at Jyn. She was still focused on her camera, not frowning, but something in the set of her jaw told him she wasn’t happy.

He rolled on to his side and clasped his hand around her ankle. “So? You don’t need one for what you do. And you’re one of the smartest, most talented people I know.”

She darted an unimpressed look at him and took the screwdriver out of her mouth. “You don’t need to flatter me to get into my pants, Cassian. In case you haven’t noticed.”

Cassian had memorized the shape of Jyn’s ears, the pattern of moles at the small of her back, and where to brush a fingertip on her inner thigh to make her tremble. He knew her political opinions, how she liked her caf, and the way she squinted and poked the tip of her tongue into the corner of her mouth when she was framing a shot. 

But he still didn’t know anything about her childhood except what she’d told him once, that her parents died when she was young—like his. Did she grow up here, on Coruscant? Her accent pointed to that, but she could have been born anywhere.

He searched her face, watching her eyes intent on the compartment she was screwing closed again. He wanted to know; even more, he wanted her to want to tell him. 

Tugging her leg a little closer, he pressed a kiss to the top of her foot, just at the hard point of her first cuneiform bone. “Will you tell me why?” He didn’t ask anything else, just leaned his head against her shin and waited for her to speak. If she chose to.

She sighed. “After my parents died, a family friend took me in. He was a veteran, and a little—damaged. When I was sixteen he kicked me out. I found out later that the special section…” 

Jyn’s eyes flickered to his. Most people on Coruscant refused to use the real name or acronym of the Imperial Security Bureau, just its nickname. Cassian nodded to show he understood. “They were watching him. He was killed resisting arrest when they came for him. So I guess he did it to protect me. But I was still on my own.”

Cassian smoothed his hand up and down her calf, pushing his thumb gently into the hollow beside her tendon.

“Anyway. I ended up on the street and lived by stealing.” Her laugh was flat, hard and unamused. “Thank the Force this planet is always full of stupid tourists.”

Cassian kept moving his hand in gentle strokes. “How’d you end up doing this?” he asked quietly.

“A bag I snatched had an old holocam in it. It wasn’t worth much when I tried to sell it, so I started playing around with it instead, taking pictures, and I… I loved it.” She smiled down at the much more elaborate version in her hands. “They say the camera doesn’t lie, but that’s bantha shit. I could take images of this place and make it look beautiful instead of ugly…” 

“And the drone work?”

“Oh, I stole a fancier camera and started shooting holovid footage too.” She darted a glance at him, as though she expected him to lecture her about theft. 

He smiled up at her and kissed her ankle. “Very enterprising.”

 

It was easier than Cassian had expected to share such a cramped space with Jyn. Part of it was due to their compatible habits, developed from years of nomadic life in tiny, temporary accommodations across the galaxy. Part of it was that both of them were busy; he was at the clinic for at least half of each day, and she had her own things to do. But mostly, it was just because it made him happy to be near her. 

The bed was small, but they’d shared smaller, and the mattress was good. Cassian didn’t mind being pressed up against Jyn while they slept. And there were definite advantages to waking up so close together, like her skin warm against his mouth. 

Jyn stirred and snorted into her pillow, stretching one arm overhead with a whiny yawn. “Why are you always up so early?”

“Good morning to you too.” Cassian grinned against her shoulder blade. 

“It’s morning. Don’t know yet if it’s a good one.”

He spread one hand wide over her ribs, nosed her hair aside and kissed the angle of her neck, flicking his tongue out to taste her there. “I can make it better.” 

He stroked a fingertip along the underside of her breast, tracing lines across the soft weight, circling her nipple until it rose to his touch. With a quiet moan Jyn pulled his hand up to cover the whole curve. Her back arched, pushing her breast into his palm and her hips against his. “Mmm. I’m feeling lightheaded all of a sudden. What if I pass out, doctor?”

He put on a measured, academic tone. “That could be serious. Clearly you need a thorough—” He pressed closer until there was no air between their bodies at all. “Physical—” His hand slid lower, down the slope of her waist, over the blunt peak of her hipbone, between her thighs. “Examination.”

Jyn hooked her foot behind his ankle, her legs shifting and opening wider to his seeking fingers. “Just so you know, I’m laughing _at_ you, not with you,” she said through a low giggle. “For an actual physician, you’re the worst at playing doctor.”

Cassian didn’t care. He’d have sacrificed more than his dignity for the sound of Jyn’s unrestrained laughter. The way it rose and broke into a high, stuttering gasp as his fingers curled deeper inside her was the best thing he'd heard in weeks.

He was late that morning, but it was worth it.

 

On his last day on Coruscant, Cassian walked through the university quarter on his way home. He’d planned to bring dinner back; he stopped at the Mon Cal place and at the Corellian bakery for some of the small, intensely sweet nut pastries Jyn liked. 

Tomorrow would be a rest day for most of the students and the square was even busier than usual. The laundromat was blaring Twi’lek pop music and the stalls selling cheap clothes and gaudy jewellery had sprawled out into the laneway with extra tables. As Cassian dodged around a chattering group of Caamasi his eyes were drawn to a hanging scarf dappled in soft tones of purple, from lavender to violet and thundercloud. 

He looked at it a moment too long and the Tritonite stall holder scented a possible customer. “Something for the _pateesa_ , eh?”

Cassian opened his mouth, but before he could say no, the merchant had pulled the scarf down with one of its four arms and draped the fabric over it. “A good choice for any soft-shell creature. Very fine, very pretty,” it wheedled. 

The image of the scarf wrapped around Jyn’s neck and hair made Cassian give in, although he still had to bargain. His self-respect wouldn’t allow him to pay the original asking price.

Through dinner and dessert he waffled, indecisive about whether to simply leave it behind him or give it to her in person, but in the end he took it out of his bag at the last minute before he had to leave for the hovertrain to the spaceport. 

“Um. This is for you.” He held out the tightly folded square of fabric, willing himself not to blush. It was just a little thing.

Jyn took the scarf and shook out its neat lines, the flowing fabric dangling from her fingertips almost to the floor. “For me?” she repeated, looking confused.

Kriff. Of course, it was too frivolous. If he had to get Jyn a present, it should have been something she actually needed. Not something useless just because it was pretty and he’d been struck by the thought that it would make her muted green eyes shine bright. “I know it’s not very practical, I can take it back…”

“No, don’t.” She bunched her fist in the delicate fabric and looked up, straight into his eyes. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “I love it.”

Her gaze was unwavering, and she sounded so serious that it felt as though there might be a double meaning to her words. Was he imagining it, or was she trying to say something more? 

He folded her in his arms and kissed her temple. The words were rising out of his throat; he couldn’t hold them back any longer. He breathed them into her hair, almost silently, so that she could ignore them if she wanted to. “I love you.” 

Jyn didn’t pull away. She turned her face into his chest, resting her cheek over his heart, and locked her arms around him. Her breath hitched, and then she whispered, "Me too."

Cassian's heartbeat went arrhythmic for a moment and his arms tightened involuntarily, squeezing her ribcage. He drew back and took Jyn's face between his hands, kissed her again, and again, and again, until he knew he'd have to run all the way to catch his train. But he couldn't leave her without pouring everything he felt into his mouth on hers. And Jyn kissed him back, her lips returning to his even as she pushed him out the door. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're getting closer to the end, here...


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it: the darkest timeline. Warning for major character death.
> 
> Please note that the warning applies to this chapter only; if you'd like a happier ending, skip ahead to the next one.

Cassian knows it’s possible to endure almost any degree of pain. He’s seen it over and over again. People can become accustomed to living in constant distress from degenerative diseases, from neurological disorders, nerve damage, open wounds. 

Of course, there are analgesics for physical pain. He’s not aware of any for grief, other than forgetting. But every time he thinks of Jyn, he forces himself to remember that even though he knew her for years, even though he loved her, he didn’t have her for long. The time he spent on the same planet as her (let alone within arm’s reach of her) could be measured in weeks. Maybe that will make it hurt less, eventually. 

He presses the button on the holoprojector in his hand and Jyn flickers to life in three-quarter profile, sitting beside him in a sidewalk cantina with a Corellian ale in her hand. They’re both dusty and grinning, surrounded by his MSF colleagues, and for once everyone is relaxed. Even Draven is smiling at one of Melshi’s terrible jokes. When Jyn finally notices the camera aimed in their direction, she pulls a truly disturbing face, eyes crossed and tongue protruding, before breaking into a laugh. The holo ends there, and loops around to the beginning. Jyn smiles and laughs, smiles and laughs.

For someone who was always complaining about Cassian’s dislike of cameras, Jyn left behind almost no trace of her existence. This is the only recording of her that he has. A friend of hers, another freelance journalist named Maia, gave him a copy when they ran into each other on Onderon a few months ago. “She was in a good mood that day, because you were there,” Maia said, with a noise between a sob and a laugh. “Otherwise she’d have thrown something at me.”

The holo flickers again, and he watches Jyn stick her tongue out and laugh. Her bare arm is brushing his in the image. He remembers how hot her skin was that night, how he could taste the sweat in the crease of her elbow. 

Kay’s metal digit depresses the button and Jyn’s glowing face vanishes. “You should stop drinking, Cassian. If you consume too much alcohol, your performance tomorrow will be sub-optimal.”

“I haven’t had too much to drink, Kay.” Cassian drinks just enough. One advantage of being a doctor: he knows when to stop to avoid permanent systemic damage. Kay has a point, though. He’ll probably be hungover in the morning. 

“Regardless of the accuracy of that assertion, you don’t sleep enough.”

Cassian rubs his forehead. “Fine, Kay. I’m going to bed now, alright? You can quit nagging.”

He fears tonight’s going to be bad. It’s been almost a year; Cassian thought that by now everyone who knew Jyn must have heard about her death. He’d never have to tell anyone else the news. But today Sefla rotated in after a long posting on the MSF hospital ship orbiting Dressel, and Sefla didn’t know. The first thing he asked Cassian was, “So when’s your cranky girlfriend going to show up?” 

Sefla’s panicked, frozen expression when Cassian told him she was dead was bad enough, but then Cassian had to listen to Melshi drag him aside and chew him out in a frantic whisper. 

“Karking hell, knock it off!” he’d finally shouted at the two of them. “I’m not going to fall apart just because someone mentions her.”

Cassian hates that people insist on treating him like a fracture that isn’t mending. He hasn’t missed any work, he hasn’t done anything stupid, he’s gone on doing what he can because it’s all he can do. Not that it will make any lasting difference, he’s lost his hope of that, but while he’s alive he’ll keep going.

After all, it’s not like he ever forgets that Jyn is dead. Sometimes he wishes he could. Why can’t he dream that she’s sleeping beside him, wake to the illusion that she’s still alive? Four seconds of happiness would be worth the plunge into despair. But it never works that way; when he opens his eyes, the weight of knowledge has already settled on his chest like a lead blanket.

Yeah, sleep isn’t going to come easily tonight, despite the alcohol. Cassian gives into temptation, rolls over to drag his pack closer and dig out Jyn’s crystal. He keeps it with him always, though he almost never wears it—he’s read the research, knows that habitual kyber wearers report migraines, insomnia, and other neurological issues. Strangely, Jyn never seemed to be affected; he's wondered whether she might have been protected by some latent Force sensitivity. 

It’s cold at first, but once he clasps it in his hand, the gem’s hard angles warm to his body temperature quickly. He shuffles through his worn collection of memories, sifting for one that won’t make him agonizingly lonely. Something that will let him fall asleep.

Cassian used to organize his memories of Jyn by planet—Tirahnn, Eiloroseint, Chemvau—but at some point since her death, he’s started thinking of her in firsts and lasts instead. The first time he saw her room (after he’d known her for three years). The last time she made fun of how he blushed (when she grabbed his ass in front of Bodhi). The first time they went shopping in a marketplace that wasn’t rubble (he had to buy another pair of gloves because she was always “borrowing” his). 

When was the last time he saw her wearing his coat? He thinks it was on Ando Prime. Cassian didn’t like the icy planet; it rasped at a sore spot in the back of his mind, some childhood memory of Fest, and he was constantly nervous, on edge. Jyn swallowed up by his faded blue parka with the fur-trimmed hood, frowning behind a thick scarf and complaining about her drone mechanism freezing was one of the few things that improved his mood.

The first time they ate together was when she insisted he had to try the local delicacy—some kind of grilled vermin on a stick—on Berchest. Cassian wasn’t a big fan of eating food from street vendors on unfamiliar planets; he couldn’t afford gastrointestinal issues or picking up a xenoparasite. He pointed that out to Jyn, who just rolled her eyes and took a huge bite of the greasy meat. It did taste good, and luckily his digestive system had managed to cope. He even went back for another one the following day, although he never admitted it to her.

The last time she laughed at him was on Thyferra, where the MSF billets had all been furnished with traditional Thyferran hammocks. Egged on by a few too many jokes, they’d decided to see whether they could engineer a method of having sex in one without ending up on the floor. Snickering and sweaty from twisting themselves into various contortions, they’d finally found a position that seemed workable until Jyn’s heel slipped and caught in the side of the wobbly net, spilling Cassian to the floor on his bare ass. Jyn had laughed until she choked. 

They ended up piling all the bedding in the corner and sleeping on the floor. That was the last time they… the last time he touched her, alive. 

And calling up that memory was a mistake, because it leads inevitably to the next.

 

The civic morgue attendant was an Aqualish with their typically matter of fact attitude towards death. Cassian was relieved; sympathy at that moment would have broken him.

“Deceased’s records are incomplete. Any next of kin?”

“Not as far as I know. Her parents are dead, and she didn’t have any siblings.” 

The Aqualish turned two of its eyes toward him. “I’ll go through her datapad for further notes, but so far you’re the only person other than her employers mentioned as someone to be informed in case of death. Convenient this happened while you were on the same planet.”

“Convenient,” Cassian repeated. His mouth twitched and he very nearly laughed. 

It wasn’t even recklessness that had killed her in the end, just a stupid speeder accident: the most common cause of death in the galaxy outside of malnutrition. A simple hit and run. Thank the Force Jyn hadn’t been brought to the MSF field hospital. At least he hadn’t had to find out whether he’d have been able to treat her in an emergent situation without freezing up, or to second-guess whether one of his colleagues could have saved her.

And Jyn probably hadn’t had much time to be in pain, or to know what was happening. Compared to some of the other things that could have happened, it was a blessing. He recited all of the reasons in his head, and hated that he was almost grateful for the way she died.

It finally sank into his head that something was missing; nothing hung around her neck. “She had a…” Cassian put his hand to his throat. “A pendant, a crystal she always wore.”

The attendant tapped on its datapad again. “It’s with the rest of her effects. Do you want it now? It should really wait until all the forms are processed, but since you’re the only beneficiary named and you’re here...”

“Beneficiary?” 

“According to her recorded legal testament, you inherit everything she had.”

“Oh.” Cassian blinked. Thinking was still difficult; he felt concussed, as though someone had hit him over the head with a brick. “Yeah. I’ll take it now, please.”

“Anything else?”

Bloodstained clothes, the smashed drone case… Cassian could picture the useless detritus left behind in the wake of Jyn’s death like so many others. “No, nothing.”

The attendant nodded and went to fetch the necklace, leaving him alone with Jyn’s body. 

Cassian reached out to brush the hair off her forehead one last time, and then wished he hadn’t. The flesh was already inert beneath his fingertips; her soul, the Force, or whatever it was that made bone and blood into a person, was gone. Jyn was gone, and he’d never see her again. He longed to bend down and kiss her one more time, but he didn’t want to remember her lips cold and stiff.

He left the morgue with the crystal clenched in his fist; a strand of her hair was still caught in the cord. He couldn’t stand to look at it, but he couldn’t let go of it either. 

 

In the morning Cassian woke with his hand still wrapped around the crystal, warm and almost pulsing in time with his heartbeat. He should have put it back in his pack, but for some reason, he’d slipped the cord over his head before he left.

And now that the roof has crashed down on the tenement he was checking for survivors, he’s glad he did. It’s good to have something solid to focus on while he strains to stay calm. It’s eerily quiet except for faint creaking and groans emanating from the blackness above. Too soon to tell whether that’s the sound of rescue efforts, or just the rubble settling further. Either way, there’s nothing he can do about it but wait.

He’d be worried about dehydration, but given the fact he can’t feel anything below his ribcage, he doesn’t think that will be an issue. If he isn’t found soon, he’ll die of shock and blood loss long before he needs fluids.

Something is warm against his breastbone. The crystal is heating up into a line of fire searing his skin, but the sensation is weirdly comforting. It’s a little easier to breathe; the pain in his arm is fading too. 

Cassian's watched enough people die to know what that means. It won’t be long now. Still, it's good to know that the end can be painless. He's always wondered whether dying—not death, but dying—could actually be peaceful. It seems that it might.

Warmth from the crystal spreads through his body and he’s no longer shivering. He stops trying to keep his eyes open. He lets them fall shut, lets himself return to the memory he rarely allows himself to revisit for fear that it would fade and blur: _Jyn on a pier, backlit by the sunset, stripping her clothes off and laughing. Her pale limbs glowing through dark water. Slippery in his arms, her lips tasting of salt._

The last thing he feels is the crystal, a burning point over his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A very long time ago, when I first started thinking about this ending, I asked for “first/last time” ideas on Tumblr. **red-applesith** , **thezelbinion** , and **youareiron-andyouarestrong** contributed suggestions, but they are definitely not to blame for the rest of it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I needed to imagine something happier after writing the previous chapter… so here is the alternate version, where everything is beautiful and (almost) nothing hurts.

Cassian thinks he’s subtle, but he’s not. He’s been working up to something all night. Jyn can always tell when he wants to say something he doesn’t think she’ll like by the way he glances at her, takes a breath as if to speak, then looks away and lets it out in a sigh. 

It’s getting annoying, to be honest. This bed is warm, she’s tired and drowsy after a very satisfying orgasm, and she’d really like to get some sleep before she has to ship out for Bimmisaari tomorrow at the asscrack of dawn. If Cassian would just spit out whatever he’s been chewing over in his head, that would be great.

His ribcage tenses underneath her cheek as he holds another breath, preparing to speak, and then it sinks again. Jyn doesn’t open her eyes, just slides her left hand up his chest, along his neck scratchy with unshaven stubble, and across the angle of his jaw. She taps her forefinger on his bottom lip. “Cassian. Say it.”

“Hmm? What?” His voice is tight.

“Whatever it is that you’re stewing over. Just tell me.” 

He draws in another breath and finally expels the words on a hard gust of air. “I’m leaving MSF.” 

That is... not what Jyn was expecting. Her head jerks up and she props herself on one elbow to look at him. Is he trying to make a joke? She’s always thought Cassian would keep working in danger zones until he dropped dead from exhaustion or got himself killed. “You’re retiring?” 

He scowls at her, his brow angling into sharp furrows. “Not retiring. You make it sound like I’m an old man.”

“You are. And getting older every day.” Thankfully. She strokes a finger through the strands of hair above his ear; she likes the silver glinting there. There’s more of it in his beard than on his head, for some reason, but it suits him. 

A cold, melancholy lump is settling in Jyn’s gut and she tries to ignore it. It’s Cassian’s life, and despite her teasing, he isn’t young any more. If he wants to move on to something else, uproot himself from familiar things (like her), it’s his call.

“What will you do?” After witnessing his dedication to Medics in Sentient Fellowship for more than a decade—sweet Force, how can she possibly have known him that long—she can’t picture him doing anything else. 

“With the ceasefire holding, things are starting to quiet down. MSF can do without me, and a lot of places need GPs. I found a clinic looking for one on Tirahnn.”

The name sounds vaguely familiar. Why is that? Oh, right, the hospital bombing. “That was a pretty place,” Jyn muses. 

“Remember the mountains? That meadow where all the wildflowers grew?” Cassian smiles with a mischievous slant. He turns his head and kisses the point of her shoulder. “I wanted to pull you down onto the grass and undress you then and there.”

“Doctor Andor!” She smacks his arm lightly, pretending to be scandalized. “You and your thing for sex outdoors.”

“No, just for you.” His smile softens; his voice is tender, reminiscent. “It was one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen—you, in the middle of that valley, standing in the sunshine and smiling.” 

Jyn’s throat is suddenly dry. Where the kriff did that come from? “Don’t say bantha-shit like that to me.” She’s going to choke up if he does.

His smile slips away, and he looks at his fingers, twisting them into a strand of hair that’s fallen down over her breast. 

“What about Kay?” Jyn can just imagine the droid’s opinion of Cassian’s retirement plan. 

“I told him I planned to leave, and that he could come with me or stay with MSF. He hasn’t decided yet. Still analyzing the data, apparently.” 

Jyn would bet on the murderbot going with Cassian in the end. Not that she has any idea what an ex-security droid might do in a medical clinic on an agricultural planet, but the thought of either of them on their own is strangely sad. They’ve worked together for years; honestly, Cassian might miss the droid more than he’ll miss her.

But something else is still on Cassian’s mind. He keeps twining her hair around his finger until it slips loose, and then he takes up another strand and starts again. “I thought, maybe—I just wanted you to know that there will always be room for you. Any time you happen to pass by.” He doesn’t look at her. “Or if you wanted to… to live there with me, you could.”

Jyn’s mouth is still open. She snaps it shut with a click, almost biting her tongue, and swallows around the stubborn knot in her throat. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Think about it, for a little while?” He rests his forehead against her shoulder. “I’m not asking you to settle down, or anything like that,” he adds with a hint of laughter against her skin. “If you get bored, you can go do whatever you like. Pod racing, inciting rebellions, whatever. I’m just hoping you’ll come back once in awhile.”

His breath washes over her and his lips drag across her breast as he speaks. His beloved voice is so soft, so close. She shuts her eyes, not wanting to think about losing this.

“I thought you might want to make a few changes yourself these days. You keep complaining about the immersive holonet.”

It’s true; she dislikes the latest tech and she’s told Cassian as much several times. Jyn doesn't like to think of herself as old and out of touch, but she doesn’t want to broadcast her emotional responses as part of the work, or feel anyone else’s. She doesn’t want someone inside her head, influencing her reaction when she sees something. Maybe it's time to move on.

Jyn wouldn’t say she’s mellowed, but she’s definitely learned to conserve her energy and pick the important battles instead of fighting everyone who looks at her cross-eyed. When she thinks of the mouthy, aggressive kid she was when she met Cassian—the kind of jerk who believed walking up to someone attractive and insulting them was a good way to make a pass—she’s amazed he was interested enough to take her up on it. Her throat is tight and her eyes are gathering moisture. Hasn’t she been enough trouble over the years? She has no idea why Cassian would want her to stick around for his chance at a peaceful life. But apparently, he does. 

She bends her head and breathes in the smell of his hair. It’s never gotten any easier to say what she feels out loud, but right now she needs to. “I love you.”

He kisses the hollow of her throat leisurely, soft and slow. “I love you,” he murmurs against her pulse, his beard grazing her skin. “Wherever you are. You don’t have to stay in one place if you don’t want to.”

She combs her fingers through his hair, cradling his head, and he slides his arms around her. The feeling of his hands stroking her back and his contented affection wrapping her in warmth is unbearably sweet. She squeezes her eyes shut tighter. “I’d like to try,” she whispers. “Especially if it’s with you.” 

“And Kay. Maybe,” Cassian points out. “Don’t forget him.”

She rolls her eyes and tugs at his hair. “How could I.”

Jyn wonders whether this will work as well as he seems to think. Maybe it’s a mistake; maybe they’ll discover that spending more than a few days together at a time is a terrible idea. But whether she’s with him or not, Cassian will be happy, doing what he loves, and (she hopes) in less danger than he’s been for the past three decades. She’ll be able to leave and come back, secure in the knowledge that he's safe.

She wraps her hand around the back of his neck and pulls his head up for a deep, satisfying kiss. If nothing else, she's going to take him to that meadow and make his fantasy come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize this resolution is far too fluffy, given the overall tone of this story, but after writing the sad ending I desperately needed some pure happiness.
> 
> It got easier once I remembered that I was already writing an AU. In _this_ galaxy far far away, since Galen Erso died earlier, building a Death Star took much longer without his input and there was only one of them. Also, by authorial fiat, Snoke doesn’t exist, the First Order never happens, and the Organa-Solo family remains intact. Therefore, life is easier, if still not perfect, and Cassian and Jyn are able to contemplate a life of (relative) peace.


End file.
